


Ginger and Honey

by Judayre



Series: Judy is Bad at Titles: the Modern AU [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwalin has a potty mouth, Gen, Learning disability, School, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judayre/pseuds/Judayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the service requirement of the Honors Society, Bilbo signed up for peer tutoring.  He really hadn't wanted to get stuck with Dwalin Durin, but what could he do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Session

**Author's Note:**

> This is a far more cohesive story than Hearth and Home. I expect it to be maybe 3-4 chapters to wind everything up.
> 
> I was an all honors, good at everything student myself, so I know how Bilbo feels in here. The story they read for English is [""Charles" by Shirley Jackson](http://www.lordalford.com/9grade/ss/CHARLESbyShirleyJacksonSTORY.doc).

Bilbo took a deep breath before pushing open the classroom door. Of all the assignments he could have gotten as a peer tutor, this was one he would have preferred not to. But he was the one the teachers were trusting with it.

The scowling teenager in the room was half a foot taller than him. His blazer and tie were off and tossed haphazardly on the floor in a way that would leave wrinkles in them and would have made Bilbo's mother make him iron it himself. Dark eyes skewered him, and Bilbo did his best not to shiver.

"Baggins." The voice was a low growl, everything you would expect from a football player.

"Durin," he answered, forcing himself across the room to the seat opposite the other boy. "You agreed to this?"

"Coach says I need to get my grades up to stay on the team."

"Mrs. Riell says if you'd just do your homework it would bring your grades up enough. She gave some tonight, right? Let's do that."

"Stupid read and answer questions," Dwalin said, dropping the text on the desk with a loud bang. "Bullshit. When will I need any of this? It's just a waste of time."

Bilbo was a learner for the sake of learning, but he knew better than to start that argument. Dwalin Durin could probably lift him with one hand tied behind his back, and Bilbo knew he was no lightweight. "You'll need it to get into college," he said finally. "And pass your classes, and _stay on the team_. Now read the story and we'll figure out what the problem is."

He opened his own book and started reading the short story they'd been assigned. He glanced up a few times, but Dwalin just sat there with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. His book wasn't even open.

"Oh, for the love of-- Fine!" Bilbo said after five minutes of this. "Fine, I'll read it! You just sit there like the giant lump of football player you are!" He flipped back to the beginning of the story and started reading again, aloud this time, glancing up at Dwalin and glaring at him for being so difficult.

To his surprise, the athlete was paying attention. He had his chair tipped back and his feet propped on the desk, and Bilbo absently wondered how he managed to keep himself upright. Far from the absent expression Bilbo was expecting, Dwalin had his eyes on the reader. And from his occasional snorts of amusement, he was following the story as it was read.

"Woman was stupid," Dwalin said as soon as the story ended. "How the hell could she have missed that?"

Bilbo looked up from scanning the questions. "That's one of the questions, actually. Why didn't she realize what was going on?"

Dwalin rolled his eyes. "He's her perfect little baby, right? Says right in the beginning. She calls him a sweet, angelic tot. Who talks like that?"

Bilbo shrugged. "Story's old. People talked like that then. How did the author foreshadow what was going to happen?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It's one of the damned questions! Just answer it!"

"Who's going to stay after school to watch some jackass have detention? Kid's a jerk at home to his dad and sister, he's being a jerk at school to his teacher and classmates."

Dwalin answered every question instantly and well. He had understood the story completely, and picked out lines and details that Bilbo hadn't noticed while reading. All that was wrong was that he wasn't actually doing the homework? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad an assignment for tutoring after all.

"So you know the answers to all the questions," he said brightly. "Just write them and the homework is done!"

He should have realized it wouldn't be that easy. Dwalin's arms crossed over his chest and he got a mulish set to his face. He didn't even need to say anything and Bilbo knew he wasn't going to write it. Although why he wouldn't was a question beyond the honor's student's understanding. He couldn't _want_ to be doing poorly in his classes.

"You wouldn't be here if you were just going to keep not doing your work. Come on! Mrs. Riell is trusting us to get this done."

"If you want to be a suck up that's your own business. As for the English teacher, she can suck my--"

"DWALIN!"

He subsided into muttering. "Bitch. Where does she get off saying she's disappointed in me? Not living up to my potential, my ass. When is anyone going to make me answer questions on a stupid story after I get out of this place?"

Bilbo sighed, twirling his pen in his fingers. "You'd better tell me those answers again," he said, breaking in. "I don't remember all of them, and we don't want her thinking I did your homework for you. We'd both get in trouble for that, and I'll be damned if I get my first detention because you can't be bothered to do your own damned homework."

Dwalin looked almost confused, but willingly repeated his answers as Bilbo wrote them down. He accepted the paper and shoved it in his English book, dropping the book back on the floor with a clatter.

Dwalin had a snide comment for every subject and every teacher. Mr. Brown, the chemistry teacher, was obviously sampling his own chemicals. And what was the point of it anyway? Sure, air was all around them, but did they really need to know what it was made of? When would it ever help any of them to know the temperature at which oxygen was a solid? Despite the ringing lack of endorsement, he seemed to enjoy the chemistry work, and he explained to Bilbo how the different kind of molecular bonds worked.

This put him in a better temper for politics, which was apparently one of the classes he hated most. Mr. Dalton was a self assured bastard who picked favorites and always insisted he was right, even when it was clear he wasn't. As for the subject, it clearly didn't matter how the political system was supposed to work, because that wasn't how it did. The way it worked was that everyone voted the party line because then they didn't have to think about it. And he didn't see why he had to take a class to teach him how to elect someone he hated and complain about it for the next four to eight years the way his parents did.

After that, Bilbo was glad they'd put off math for last. Dwalin liked geometry, and the teacher was his aunt. He couldn't bad mouth her or it would get back to his cousin Thorin, who would beat him up. Dwalin actually felt there might be some practical applications to geometry, although when they opened the book he pointed and glared, demanding to know why there were letters in his math. Bilbo stifled a laugh and spent the next five minutes explaining a variable to him. It seemed that it had never been done properly before, because after a dawning look of comprehension, Dwalin spent the rest of their tutoring session paging through the book and penciling question marks over every variable he could find.

The football player was able to gather all of the books into the crook of one arm, which Bilbo envied. He slapped Bilbo on the back on the way out, presumably a method of saying thank you, and disappeared down the hall to his locker. Bilbo piled his things together more slowly and considered the afternoon. Dwalin Durin was smarter than he had expected, and quite a bit funnier. It was strange that he was so adamant about not doing his homework, but that seemed to be something they could work on. In all, Bilbo had had a better time than he had expected and felt much better about the assignment than he had to start.

Buoyed with hope, he dropped his books off at his locker and went home.


	2. Session Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has messed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in the middle of moving and won't have Internet at home until next Tuesday. Life has been a crazy whirlwind of packing, cleaning, carrying, traveling, more carrying, and unpacking. And it's not over yet.
> 
> So have a possibly short chapter to tide you over until I actually have time to write again.

"What do you want?"

Bilbo squeezed the stack of books to his chest. "I'm looking for Durin."

The dark haired football captain crossed his arms and looked unimpressed.

" _Dwalin_ Durin," Bilbo specified.

"Not here. He's supposed to be in tutoring. With you." 

The glare he shot made Bilbo wonder if Dwalin was actually there and had told his cousin what had happened. He squirmed uncomfortably. "We finished early," he hedged. "He left his books behind. Maybe you could take them? You'll see him before I will."

Thorin took the stack of books and gave the soft, round honors student a dismissive look as he walked away. Bilbo looked out onto the field, although he wasn't sure he'd recognize Dwalin under all the padding. Unsure as well how the jock would react to his presence.

He walked slowly to his locker and moved to put his books away before remembering that they hadn't done all of their work. While his math and chemistry could easily be stowed, he held his English book and looked at it. Dwalin's deep voice stumbling slowly into the story sounded in his mind, as did his own disastrous response.

First, a sneering demand to stop playing around. Then, when the other teenager's shoulders had tightened defensively and his voice quieted and stumbled ever more, words bearing less and less similarity to what was written on the page, Bilbo had questioned his intelligence. He had called him all kinds of names, even as he heard the desperation and tears in the strong jock's usually confident voice. And through all of it, Dwalin had kept trying.

Until Bilbo called him useless and wondered aloud if he had slept with his teachers in order to pass. Bilbo had thought for a long moment that he was about to be murdered, and if looks could kill, he would have been carried out of that room in pieces. Instead, Dwalin's hands had balled into tight, white knuckled fists, and he had stalked past Bilbo.

It wasn't until he had sat for several long minutes and his heart rate had subsided back to normal that Bilbo recognized just how hurtful he'd been. That was when he had gathered all the books together and gone to search. He didn't know what he planned to say to Dwalin if he found him. But he knew that he couldn't just leave things the way they were. He wasn't that kind of person. His parents hadn't raised him to be cruel, and he had always thought better of himself. He _couldn't_ leave it the way it was.

He held onto the English book and went to the library to finish his homework. But once there, he found that he couldn't concentrate.

"Mr. Luzer," he said, approaching the librarian's desk. "Do you know a reason someone smart wouldn't be able to read?"

The man raised a brow. "I know you can read, Bilbo. I don't think I've ever seen you without a book."

"I'm not talking about myself," Bilbo said, but bit his lip before he could name Dwalin. It wasn't his place to tell anyone. "Can it happen? It doesn't make any sense. How can you be smart and not know how to read?"

The librarian put a bookmark in the book he was reading through and brought his attention to Bilbo. "Would you say that it makes no sense to be a fine athlete and overweight? You'd be up against many of the early baseball stars."

"That's different," Bilbo protested. "You have to train and work to stay thin. It's not like reading. Reading is easy. That's why you learn it in first grade."

"You did," the librarian allowed. "Many others don't, for any number of reasons."

"But to be in high school and unable to read!"

"That sounds like dyslexia. We have some books on it. Would you like to look at them?"

Bilbo considered, then nodded. He followed the librarian into the stacks and accepted a pair of books. He checked them out, gathered his things, and went home. Having information and a course of action gave him hope that he could figure everything out. He locked himself in his room after calling greetings to his parents and opened one of the books.

The idea that everyone was different was nothing new, nor was the idea that it was a person's brain that made them who they were. But it still took him a long time to come to terms with the idea that someone who could answer questions as fully as Dwalin could be unable to read a simple story.

Abruptly, three chapters in, the book became harder to read. The vocabulary swiftly grew difficult, and even sounding out some of the words was unhelpful. And then-- Were those letters upside down? And he was sure that word should have a b in it, but it had a d. He checked it three times just to be sure. And wait, that line made no sense. He had to read it twice, but it didn't follow from one thought to the next. It sounded like it went with the next line of text, but why would it be where it was?

And by the time he had finished a page, he had no idea what he was reading anymore.

He turned the page. "This is what it might look like for a person with dyslexia when looking at a page of text." Bilbo gaped and continued reading. That was what it felt like for Dwalin when he was reading? And the book said some people had worse symptoms that were too hard to easily reproduce in a book.

His mother had to call him three times for dinner before he heard her. He was so caught up in the book he was reading, increasingly both fascinated by the problem of working with someone who just couldn't look at a page and know what was on it, and horrified by what he had done to Dwalin earlier in the day.

"Dad," he said after eating silently for several minutes. "What do you do when you've been horrible to someone?"

Bungo Baggins put down his knife and looked at his son for a long moment. "You apologize, Bilbo. Humbly and sincerely. That is what a man does when he has made a mistake of any kind." He must have seen Bilbo's incredulity, because he continued. "No matter what your Westerns and sitcoms would have you believe, a strong man is not one who denies that he has emotions and imposes his will on others. The strongest man is the one who can admit his own mistakes and change his actions to fit new information. I thought I had already taught you to be that kind of man."

"I'm sorry, dad," Bilbo said, hating the tone of disappointment.

"I'm not the one you were asking about. Don't apologize to me." Bungo picked up his knife and went back to his dinner, the matter closed.

And as Bilbo respected his father over anyone else he knew, even if he didn't fit the romanticized notion of what a man was, he promised himself to change. He had made a mistake, but now he had more information and he could change. If Dwalin would let him.


	3. Third Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tries to make up for what he did before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being a responsible adult can be really really tiring. That is my only excuse.
> 
> There is a five second reference in here (although it wouldn't be a reference for them - this takes place in 1987 and the movie referenced wasn't out until 2008). If you spot it, you can have a cookie ("cookie" in this case meaning you can give me a prompt and I will make it my next project so it will actually get written). More than one person can get cookies, just don't cheat and read other people's guesses first (this is honor code based - I have no way to tell if you cheated or not).

Bilbo wasn't even sure Dwalin would come to the next tutoring session, but trying to explain that to their teachers would mean telling them about the last session, and that was something he couldn't do. The dyslexia was Dwalin's secret, and Bilbo wouldn't tell anyone about it, especially after he'd been so horrible about it.

And he'd been _horrible_ , a thing he was loathe to tell anyone about.

He went to the classroom that had been set aside for their sessions anyway. He positioned himself with his back to the door so that Dwalin could take his time about coming in. If he came in at all. And if he came in and decided to beat Bilbo up, Bilbo was sure he didn't want to see it coming. He surely deserved it, but watching the punch come at him was more than he could bear.

Then he pulled out the day's homework, organized it based on how much Dwalin liked the subjects, reorganized it by how much reading was involved, then back to favorites. Then he stopped himself from fidgeting with the books and squirmed nervously in his seat while he waited. He'd been trying all week to think of how to apologize, but he still couldn't make it sound right. He didn't think there was a way for it to sound right.

The door banged open and Bilbo jumped in his seat. Despite his decision that he wanted any potential beat down to be a surprise, he turned, cowering back under the dark glare he was being treated to, and held out the math book as a peace offering. Math was Dwalin's favorite subject, and his best one. It had the least reading, and he seemed fine with geometry directions in a way that he wasn't fine with anything else.

They worked through the subject silently, and every time Bilbo glanced up, Dwalin was concentrating fiercely on congruent triangles and completely ignoring him. Bilbo's hope was that not saying anything about last week would help the other teen be easy in his presence again.

When the math worksheets were finished, they switched to chemistry. Bilbo hesitantly asked for help there. It was only partially an effort to regain trust - showing that everyone needed help and letting Dwalin be the one helping and not the one helped. They were balancing equations, and Dwalin was definitely better at it. Bilbo had trouble keeping chemical properties in mind even with the periodic table to hand, but Dwalin read charts and diagrams like he'd been born with them.

Visual learning, his memory of the book supplied. If Dwalin could see it he could remember it. But that was no help for English, which was the next class to be tackled.

As Bilbo opened the textbook, Dwalin sat back in his seat and sneered. He crossed his arms and set his mouth, clearly unwilling. Without looking up (football players were like dogs and thought eye contact was a challenge, right?), Bilbo began reading as though that had always been the plan. He glanced up once in the middle of the story and saw that Dwalin was paying attention but still looked suspicious. Bilbo didn't suppose he blamed him.

His answers, when they got to the questions, were terse and lacking a lot of the humor he had shown in the first tutoring session. Bilbo kept his head down, because he knew it was his fault. He wrote what he was told with no embellishments, and never asked for more.

When they finished, Dwalin opened his politics text and looked at Bilbo expectantly. Bilbo caught his breath. Perhaps he was being given a second chance. He couldn't stop a small, hopeful smile and quickly reminded the other teen that they didn't have book work that night. They were writing a comparison of the speeches they had watched in class that day.

Dwalin closed the book, sat back, and crossed his arms again. He began talking and Bilbo laughingly protested.

"I need to get paper out first! And you can't just start like that. You need an introduction first."

"So write one," Dwalin said dismissively.

Bilbo stilled. "No," he said deliberately. There were some things he wouldn't do to apologize. "I will only write what you tell me."

The football player looked at him, and Bilbo gritted his teeth and made himself hold the other's eyes.

After a long moment, Dwalin broke their gaze. He looked over to the side and started talking again, slower this time. He started with an introduction. Bilbo smiled just a little and bent his head to write.

There was a long moment of silence when they had finished. Bilbo felt like he should voice an apology, but still couldn't work out how to word it. He didn't expect Dwalin to be the one to break the silence.

"I'm not going to college."

Bilbo stared. It was such an expectation in his family that he just couldn't imagine not going to college. "Why not?"

Dwalin's eyes narrowed. "Might have to fuck my teachers to pass," he said, voice a growl.

Bilbo's face flamed. "I--" He wanted to say he didn't mean it, but that was just trying to excuse himself. "I was a dick."

"Yes," Dwalin answered shortly.

"But you're not dumb! You just need some help. You could do well in college."

The other teen shook his head. "Not going to happen. This is enough school for me."

"Then what will you do?" Bilbo asked plaintively.

"Dale Construction. Dad did some contracts for them, so I know the owner. Girion let me work part time last summer. Said I was good enough that he'd have a job for me when I graduate."

"What does your family think?"

Dwalin looked at him again. "They don't know," he said, then rose and left the room.

Bilbo stared after him, wide eyed. This. This was a second chance. And he would be damned if he blew it. He would keep Dwalin's secrets - all that he cared to share - and prove that what had happened wasn't who he really was.


	4. And What Happened After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teachers don't always trust students.

Bilbo wasn't the last to finish the test, but he was one of the last in the classroom when the bell rang. Mr. Dalton had left with Dwalin at the beginning of the period, and Bilbo was curious what it was about. In consequence, he was very slow to get his books together.

"What was that about?"

Bilbo looked up, not even pretending to be uninterested in Thorin's question.

"Said he wanted to see if Baggins' trick to 'bring out my genius' really worked," Dwalin snorted. Thorin raised a brow. "Yes, he actually said that."

_Mr. Dalton and Mrs. Riell had cornered him together._

_"This is not his work," the politics teacher said flatly._

_"What? Of course it is!"_

_"We recognize your handwriting, Bilbo," Mrs. Riell put in gently, her long, golden hair falling over one shoulder as she leaned toward him._

_"Well, yes. I wrote it," Bilbo said, brows down in the best imitation of Dwalin's scowl he could do. "It's still his work."_

_"Explain."_

_"He told me what to write!" Bilbo exclaimed. Were they being willfully obtuse?_

_"And why didn't he write it himself?" Mr. Dalton asked._

_It was at the tip of his tongue to say that Dwalin couldn't write, but he bit back the response. It wasn't his secret to tell. "He talks better than he writes," he said instead, voice surly. "Test him yourself if you don't believe me."_

Mr. Dalton had tried to call his bluff. Only it wasn't a bluff. Bilbo almost wished he'd been there to see it.

"And?" Thorin asked, crossing his arms.

Dwalin shrugged. "A-. Would have been higher, but he said I needed to work on my vocabulary." He snorted and frowned. "Isn't a fucking English class."

The football captain turned to look at him, and Bilbo was aware that he had to be mirroring the astonishment on his face. He knew - they both knew - that Dwalin had averaged C to C+ since middle school. They turned back to find Dwalin glowering at both of them.

Thorin shook himself. "Right. We promised Frerin and Glóin we'd take them to that romantic comedy."

Dwalin raised a brow. "With gruesome murders and zombies," he pointed out.

"Doesn't mean it' storing to be any good," Thorin groused. "Let's go."

"Yeah, I'm coming." Dwalin scooped up his books and went to follow his cousin, then turned. "Coming, Baggins?"

Bilbo looked at him and his face blossomed into a smile. "Wouldn't miss it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Dwalin are still friends. Dwalin stops by Bag End at least once a week for a snack and chat. Over the years, Bilbo has started following the sports that Dwalin does, and sometimes they'll watch games together. (Bilbo has never told anyone about Dwalin's dyslexia, figuring it's his responsibility to do so.)
> 
> Bilbo was also one of the few firmly on Dwalin's side when he announced that he wouldn't be going to college.
> 
> (And I don't know what movie they were going to, but I think a gore fest with a romantic plot line could be a lot of fun. Bilbo spent most of the time dissecting the plot and characters. He had a lot of fun.)

**Author's Note:**

> The teachers:
> 
> English: Mrs. Galia Riell, a serene woman. Just about all the boys have crushes on her, and the girls wish they had her waist length ash blond hair.
> 
> Politics: Mr. Liam Ronald Dalton, a man who is very serious and self assured. He knows the classes he teaches are the most important for the future of his rich students who will likely be going into politics and law, and demands that they are serious as well.
> 
> Chemistry: Mr. Rupert Andrew Derek Geoffrey Brown, a pleasant, absent minded man who is almost Mr. Dalton's opposite. He is genuinely enthusiastic about all sciences, although chemistry and biology are his favorites, and he can normally inspire similar enthusiasm in his students.
> 
> Geometry: Mrs. Ruby Durin, a strict but fair woman. She is quick to point out errors, but she would point out that in math small errors lead to large mistakes, and she is equally ready to praise neat and competent work.


End file.
